ZEN MOMENTS
WITH NO THOUGHT OF RETURN
THE CAT EYES THE TREE,
THE ROAD TO THE SKY.
THE YELLOW PERCH CAUGHT
IN THE CHICKEN WIRE TRAP
THRASHES! THRASHES SO !
HAVING AN IDEA
I TAKE DOWN THE WHITE GUITAR,
BUT THE MOON'S SONG IS BETTER.
SHE LEAVES HER UNDERPANTS
WERE THEY FALL ON THE BATHROOM FLOOR,
MINDLESS OF THE BOYS WHO COME OVER.
THE MONARCH BUTTERFLIES
LIE NUMB ON THE GROUND,
THEIR REAR ENDS STUCK TOGETHER.
THE CAT'S EYES ARE CLOSED TO SLITS,
SLITS IN FUR, BUT HIS WHITE WHISKERS
GUARD AGAINST DANGER.
THE WATER SPIDER
RESTS ON THE SURFACE TENSION,
SUSPENDED BETWEEN TO WORLDS.
POSTCARDS FROM THE DREAM STATE
I HAD FLOUNDERED AROUND NOT DIRECTIONLESS,
BUT UNCERTAIN ENOUGH TO MERELY SKIM THE
SURFACE OF THE SAND FOR SO LONG THAT BOTH
MY EYES, LIKE THE FLOUNDER, APPEARED ON
ONE SIDE OF MY FACE. IT WAS TIME TO DO
SOMETHING WITH ALL I HAD LEARNED, WITH ALL
I HAD EXPERIENCED, WITH WHAT I HAD BECOME,
SOMETHING THAT WOULD USE THE FULLNESS OF
WHAT I WAS. I TOOK A CAREFUL INVENTORY.
I REMEMBER
SHE HAD
LILAC LIPS
CHRYSANTHEMUM HIPS
AND TULIP TITS,
AND OH A WHOLE LOT MORE.
BLUE BOLT OF SILK ACROSS THE TABLE,
CASBAH MAZE OF MYSTERY IN MY EYE,
I SEE TURBANED ARABS IN THE SKY,
BUT I DON'T KNOW WHY.
THE YELLOW HAIRED WOMAN
VORACIOUSLY EYES
THE BANANA SHE IS PEELING.
CUMULUS CLOUDS ACCUMULATE
ON THE EDGE OF THE SKY,
MILK IN A BOWL.
THE JUNKMAN'S DAUGHTER
CHICKENS ARE SLAUGHTERED
BY A WIRE THAT CUTS THEIR THROATS.
LAUGHY KATHY HEARS VOICES IN HER HEAD
SHE RATHER HEAR COMPLIMENTS INSTEAD
IT'S A VOICE THAT COMES FROM THE SKY
BUT SHE SURE AS HELL DOESN'T KNOW WHY.
ARE WE ALL SICK OR HAS THE WORLD GONE MAD?
WE ARE ALL SICK IN ONE WAY OR ANOTHER
AND YES THE WORLD HAS GONE MAD.
THE SANE MAKES LESS SENSE THAN THE CRAZED
THIS WORLD HAS GOT ALL MY FRIENDS DAZED.
NOW WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT SILK OH YES:
THE FABRIC MAN ROLLS OUT
A WAVING BOLT OF EXOTIC SILK
ACROSS THE TABLES OF OTHER PATTERNS.
VISIONS OF AN ARAB TENT, SINBAD,
AND MAGIC LAMPS DANCE IN OUR HEADS.
YOU ARE MY GENIE, MY EXOTICA!
I NEED NO SAMOVAR, OR YAFFA CAFE,
NO RED DOT ON YOUR FOREHEAD
OR BELLS ON BELT AND FEET,
AS LONG AS YOU ARE MINE AND I AM YOURS,
I NEED NO FURTHER ENTICEMENTS TO EXCITE ME.
ONLY MY HAND BRUSHING YOUR BREAST ACCIDENTLY,
OR A GAZE AT THE JEWELS OF YOUR EYES.
WHY DO YOU NOT DESIRE MY LOVE ANYMORE?
WHAT IS THE ANSWER HAS YOUR LOVE CHANGED
OR DISAPPEARED? DOSE YOUR BODY FIND MINE
REPULSIVE? ARE YOU PHYSICALLY SICK? ARE
YOU MENTALLY ILL? IS IT THINGS I SAY OR DO,
OR THE LACK OF TRUST OR FEELINGS THAT HAVE
CAUSED YOU TO WITHDRAW? TELL ME.
MAHOOT HE RIDE THE ELEPHANT
THE WOMEN ARE PICKING TEA
I DRINK WITH FRIENDS IN CEYLON
A SUNSET SUNBURST IS OVER THE SEA.
SOME PEOPLE ASPIRE TO BE LAWYERS,
OTHERS SETTLE ON BEING LAWYERS.
THE SKY IS GRAY,
THE BRIDGE IS BLUE,
A MARVEL ARE THE MARBLE
STREETS OF SNOW,
I LOVE YOU.
ZEN MOMENTS
WITH NO THOUGHT OF RETURN
THE CAT EYES THE TREE,
THE ROAD TO THE SKY.
THE YELLOW PERCH CAUGHT
IN THE CHICKEN WIRE TRAP
THRASHES! THRASHES SO !
HAVING AN IDEA
I TAKE DOWN THE WHITE GUITAR,
BUT THE MOON'S SONG IS BETTER.
SHE LEAVES HER UNDERPANTS
WERE THEY FALL ON THE BATHROOM FLOOR,
MINDLESS OF THE BOYS WHO COME OVER.
THE MONARCH BUTTERFLIES
LIE NUMB ON THE GROUND,
THEIR REAR ENDS STUCK TOGETHER.
THE CAT'S EYES ARE CLOSED TO SLITS,
SLITS IN FUR, BUT HIS WHITE WHISKERS
GUARD AGAINST DANGER.
THE WATER SPIDER
RESTS ON THE SURFACE TENSION,
SUSPENDED BETWEEN TO WORLDS.
I TRIED TO DEAL WITH REALITY FOR 35 YEARS,
BUT FORTUNATELY I OVERCAME IT.
LIKE A SPY COMING IN FROM THE COLD
FEELING SO ALONE, CONTINUING
THE MAD WEARY DANCE WITH DEATH.
YOU'RE COLD AND I'M TIRED OF BEGGING.
YOU CAN COME TO ME WHEN YOU WANT ME
AND YOU CAN DO THE BEGGING FOR A CHANGE,
AND MAYBE I'LL STILL BE HERE.
WE'VE BEEN THROUGH A LOT
AND WE'VE COME A LONG WAY
LIKE BROTHER AND SISTER
WE FEEL EACH OTHER INSTINCTIVELY.
LOVER TO LOVER
FROM STAGE TO STAGE
WE RISE HIGHER AND HIGHER
ON THE LOVE PLANE.
TROUBLE IN ZANZIBAR,
YOU ARE A FRIENDLY PERSUASION.
PIMP CARS, WHITE EL DORADOS
& HOOKERS IN CHIC CLOTHES,
ROBINS BOOKSTORE GLOWS,
A YOUNG POET OPENS THE GLASS DOORS.
HE GLANCES AT THE CLOCKS OF CITY HALL,
THE YELLOW EYES OF THE PANTHER NIGHT
ON THE PROWL.
THE WAYS OF A WOMAN...
AH NOW THERE IS A RARE
AND COMPLEX MYSTERY.
WHO'S THE STAR, THE THIEF , THE PRIEST
ITíS ALL THE SAME TO ME.
TO BE A GOOD MAN WHILE HERE ON EARTH,
THAT IS WHAT IS IMPORTANT.
HER STRAW COLORED HAIR,
DISTANT BLUE EYES & LARGE LIPS,
LOOSE BLOUSE AND PANTS
THAT CLING TO HER BEAUTIFUL HIPS,
HER ALLURING STEPS CREATE A NEW WORLD.
THE COMING OF MARTA
THE DISPERSAL OF A TOWN
WHAT REMAINS AND
AND WHAT WILL NEVER BE AGAIN.
WE ALONE ARE THE WAY.
SO THERE ARE MANY WAYS.
I KNOW MANY PEOPLE
WHO SAY NOTHING SO WELL
BEAUTIFUL IMAGES
THEY WILL MERGE
BUT THEIR MEANING IS HOLLOW.
PEOPLE STANDING IN LINE FOR A MOVIE,
THE BLACK SPOTS OF A LONG GREEN SNAKE.
DANCER IN A NIGHT CLUB,
THE CARBONATED FIZZLE OF ALKA- SELZTER.
THE TITILLATION OF THE MIND
IS A ENGAGING ART,
BUT I'M ALREADY AMUSED,
TONGS ,GONGS, AND TOGAS OLAY! GO AWAY!
PLEASE HELP ME,
TELL ME SOMETHING.
SOMETIMES I FEEL I'M CARRYING A HEAVY
SUITCASE, DRAGGING IT ON THE GROUND.
USELESS, DULL BORING AND TIRING IS THE
WEIGHT. I FEEL OLD, MUCH OLDER THAN MY AGE.
I'M TIRED, WORN OUT BY YOU.
YOUR LIFELESSNESS HAS NO LIMITS.
I BREATHE MY LIFE INTO YOU.
LIKE AIR INTO A BALLOON.
BUT THE BALLOON DOESN'T INFLATE.
IT GIVES NOTHING BACK AND I'M OUT OF BREATH.
WHAT AM I TO DO? I LOVE YOU,
BUT I MUST TURN YOU LOOSE.
THE G FORCES
ARE PULLING ME
DOWN TO EARTH. BUT I KNOW ONE THING:
THERE AIN'T NO FUTURE
IN BEING A BALLOON.
SOMEDAY THE MEN
WHO MAKE THEIR ELLIPTICAL ORBIT
AROUND YOUR HIPS ARE GOING TO LOSE
THEIR GRAVITATIONAL ATTRACTION.
THREE CATS ALL GRAY
SAT AROUND ALL DAY
AND ONE HAD THE MAKINGS
OF BEING A GANGSTER
WHEN HE GREW UP.
BUT THE OTHER TWO,
WHO WERE QUITE TAME
AND WELL TO DO,
HELPED HIM OUT
AND HE TURNED OUT
ALL RIGHT.
DIG THE DRUMMER
JUST DIG THE DRUMMER OF HIS COMBO,
TAPPING ON HIS TOP HAT, KEEPING A STEADY BEAT,
ON THE SNARE, ON BASS, NOW SYNCOPATED,
CATCHING YOU OFF GUARD, SURPRISING YOU
WITH THE STOPS, SWEAT STREAMING FROM HIS
FOREHEAD, THEN THE STICKS(BONES) COMING
DOWN HERE, THERE, AND YOU WAIT, AND THEN AGAIN,
AND THE CRASH OF THE CYMBAL SIGNALING THE
END OF A BREAK. THE RHYTHM, THE BEAT,
THE BACKBONE OF THE SONG, AND THE GUITAR
WINDS ON...
WE WERE SO CLOSE, NOW WE'RE THROUGH.
BUT IF YOU SEE ME ON THE STREET THOUGH,
JUST SAY HELLO, THAT'S ALL I ASK,
JUST SAY HELLO.
A Dream... A man with a coat of many colors
sees a young woman walking near olive trees
on an arid plain. She is carrying a large
bowl of fruit. The man, with a living lamb
in his arms, approaches and presents it to
her. They walk beside one another, speaking
softly as they go. At the house, he
slaughters the lamb and nails it to the window.
A strange ritual ensues which they both
accept and participate in. He ties her to
to the window, rips her clothes off. She is
standing naked in the window, blood of the
lamb against her, trickling down her legs.
She is there for several days. He gives her
fruit whenever she wants it.
"I SWEAR TO GOD," SHE SAYS
TURNING TO HER DAUGHTER TO VERIFY THIS.
"VANESSA ISN'T IT TRUE,
I WAS GOING THROUGH MY BOOK TODAY,
AND I SEE HERE MAN AND A NUMBER."
"FALLING IN LOVE IS OKAY IF
YOU DON'T HAVE FRIENDS."
I NO LONGER ASK
THE BIG QUESTIONS.
I PREFER LIFE
THAT DAZZLES MY EYES.
I'm not going to think about
what I may have done wrong
and what I may have done right.
THE MOON IS THE PUPIL OF THE SKY EYE,
AND I'M SEEING BEYOND THE WORLD AS IT IS.
SKY SHINE DOWN ON ME,
THE SKY WON'T COST YOU NOTHING,
SKY WILL SET YOU FREE.
EARLIER WE LAY IN BED
HOLDING EACH OTHER TIGHT
AND WATCHED THE PINK ZEBRAS
RUNNING ACROSS THE TIRED TILED SKY
AT THE END OF THE DAY.
WE ARE THE MOVIE OF THE SKY NOW,
AS WE LIE HERE, ITS EYE FOCUSED ON US,
ONLY YOU AND I AND ALL THIS DARK SPACE.
BLUE SKY, GREEN TREES, YELLOW ROOM,
I WILL SIT WITH HANDS FOLDED
BEHIND MY HEAD AND THINK
ABOUT THE ONE I LOVE ALL DAY.
THROUGH THE PULSE STOPS
THE SOUL DANCES ON,
RUNNING LIKE A GREYHOUND,
TRADING MEMORIES
FOR A NEW DREAM.
IN HIS ROOM,
THE WHITE GUITAR
STUCK OUT
LIKE A SKULL
IN A LANDFILL OR CITY DUMP.
BUT EVEN WITH ALL THE CLUTTER
IT WAS PEACEFUL THERE,
PEACEFUL AS A CLOUD,
TRANSLUCENT AND EVASIVE,
AS THOUGH THE ROOM
WAS A REFLECTION OF HIS INNER BEING:
LIKE A CLOUD, THERE BUT NOT THERE
WHEN YOUR HANDS REACH TO TOUCH,
LIKE A CLOUD TOO WERE THE NOTES
OF THE WHITE GUITAR, FLOATING UP
INTO A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN, DELICATE GENIUS,
INSUPPRESSIBLE, SO THERE BUT NOT THERE,
SO MYSTERIOUS TO TOUCH.
AND THEN HE WAS GONE.
AGAIN THE WHITE GUITAR HANGS
IN A MUSIC STORE ALONG WITH ALL
THE OTHER GUITARS, UNTIL A YOUNG MAN
WALKS IN AND WHEN ASKED "CAN I HELP YOU",
SAYS, "YEAH, LET ME SEE THAT WHITE GUITAR."
PUSHY MOMS
(OR HE'LL NEVER
BE A ROCK & ROLL STAR)
MUSIC STORE DOOR SWINGS OPEN.
IN STRIDES A MOM FOLLOWED BY A SHEEPISH SON.
WHAT CAN I DO FOR YOU TODAY? SAYS THE SALESMAN.
OH, HE BROKE HIS STRING, SHE RETORTS.
LET ME SEE, SAYS THE SALESMAN. AS HE PULLS
THE SHINNY BLACK GUITAR FROM IT'S CASE.
YEAH, THAT'S WHAT YOU DID, YOU BROKE A STRING.
TELL HIM WHAT YOU DID SON, SO YOU WON'T DO IT AGAIN.
I....I PLUCKED IT.
LOVE IS DISCOVERED
COMPLETELY BY CHANCE.
EVERYTHING IS HARDER
THAN YOU THINK IT WILL BE,
BUT EVERYTHING IS EASIER THAN IT SEEMS,
SUMMER IN THE CITY.
HOW TO TELL IT'S SUMMER IN NEW YORK.
PINEAPPLES BOB & FLOAT IN THE RIVER.
THOUSANDS OF THEM.
I TAKE THE BARE FACTS,
THE BARE MINIMUM OF DETAILS,
AND TRY TO BREATHE LIFE
(BASED ON MY SENSATIONS
OF THE ORIGINAL LIFE OF THE PERSON
OR THING TO WHICH THEY BELONG)
INTO THESE BARE FACTS.
WIND SURFERS ABOVE IN THE GULF,
HAND PAINTED SAILS, RED AND WHITE,
SHORT PEROXIDED HAIR SWEPT BACK & STICKING UP
FROM THE MIXTURE OF SALT AND SEA AND AIR.
STANDING LIKE MATADORS ON THEIR BOARDS ,
HOLDING THE SAILS AT ARMS LENGTH
AND LEANING, LEANING, INTO THE WIND.
YOUR MIND SEEKING KNOWLEDGE CHECKS IN
AT THE INFORMATION TABLES: FACTS FACTS
AND MORE FACTS, YOU CAN'T HAVE TOO MANY FACTS -
READ, READ, READ, LEARN, LEARN, LEARN,
LISTEN, LISTEN, LISTEN, ABSORB & STORE, ABSORB & STORE,
KNOWLEDGE, HAH! WHAT IS IT GOOD FOR?
WHILE YOUR BODY IS OVER HERE
DOING SOME WILD CHINGA, CHINGA, DANCE,
THAT'S ALL IT WANTS TO DO IS MOVE & MAKE LOVE.
THAT'S ALL IT REALLY EVER WANTED TO DO-
WAS TO RUN & MOVE & MAKE LOVE & REST.
THAT'S ALL, NOTHING MORE.
(SOUL CARNIVAL)
UP ON A PLATFORM,
TWO 2X4S FOR POSTS
AND AN ELECTRIC WIRE
STRUNG BETWEEN THEM
WITH ONE LIGHT BULB
IN THE MIDDLE AS A SPOTLIGHT,
YOUR SOUL, IHRE SEELE, YOUR LIBIDO
IS UP THERE, WITH SUNGLASSES ON,
SINGING THE WAY YOU TRULY FEEL INSIDE.
BUT THAT IS ONLY PART OF THE CARNIVAL.
OVER TO THE SIDE ON A FERRIS WHEEL
YOUR ENTERTAIN ROMANTIC NOTIONS,
YOUR HEART GOES BOOM BOOM,
YOUR HEAD GOES ROUND AND ROUND,
KISSY KISSY OF DOVES IN THE NIGHT.
SO THIS IS THE WAY LIFE IS?
WHEN YOU'RE EVEN KEELED,
NOT DRUNK, NOT HIGH,
NOT ENTHUSIASTIC TO BEGIN WITH,
THIS IS THE WAY LIFE IS?
AT FIRST IT SEEMED DEPRESSING,
I EVEN CONSIDERED SUICIDE,
BUT THEN I REALIZED IT'S NOT
SOME JOLLY ROMP, SOME SIDE SPLITTING
HYSTERICAL EXUBERANCE OF AN EVENT,
AND THAT'S OKAY. SOMETIMES IT IS